


Before the Desolation

by applepieisworthit



Series: Before the Desolation [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, NO EVIL THRAIN HERE, THRAIN IS THE BEST DAD, before smaug, before the desolation, borrowing Determamfidd's original characters again, cute Durin feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 18:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3906925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applepieisworthit/pseuds/applepieisworthit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frís became pregnant with Thorin, Thráin was ecstatic and when she announced her expectation of Frerin he could barely control his excitement and now she is giving birth to their third child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before the Desolation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/gifts), [Scientist_Salarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientist_Salarian/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Sansûkh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/855528) by [determamfidd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/determamfidd/pseuds/determamfidd). 



> So Thrain is an awesome fucking dad - as is Thror - so this is the first in a series of BEFORE SMAUG CAME Durin family stories.
> 
> (borrowing Dets' female Dwarves)
> 
> Khuzdul (courtesy of Dwarrow Scholar):  
> naddan - children

When Frís became pregnant with Thorin, Thráin was ecstatic and when she announced her expectation of Frerin Hrera nearly pulled her hair out with frustration over Thráin’s fussing, she could swear that he’d turned back into a little Dwarfling, high on sweets stolen from the kitchen. The whole of Erebor had a celebration that lasted for over three nights at the announcement of a third grandchild for their King, at the news that Durin’s line was secure in a legacy that would last for years.

Thráin has yet to sleep a wink over the last two days as Frís has been in the birthing room for almost two full days with their third child now and as he paces the floor in the rooms outside her chambers he feels the worry churning in his stomach at the fact that neither of their other children had taken this long. Most of the time he is alone in his agitated pacing, but for the last two hours he has been walking around the room with the nine year old Frerin nestled securely in his arms, fast asleep, his small hands curled into fists around Thráin’s collar, and a fourteen year old Thorin trying to keep pace beside him on his short legs. 

When Thráin stopped pacing for a moment and Thorin stood panting lightly beside him, Thráin placed his large hand lightly on his eldest son’s unruly hair and took a moment to contemplate how wonderful his family was and how lucky he was to have two beautiful sons and another on the way. He settled into a chair that had been placed there for him, shifting Frerin in his lap, who just curled tighter and pulled one of Thráin’s braids into his mouth to chew on. He then pulled his eldest son close and set to running his fingers lightly through Thorin’s hair to get rid of the almost ever-present tangles.

When the healer informed him that his wife had given birth to a baby girl he laughed for the first time since Frís was announced ready to give birth, his eyes crinkling at the corners and eyebrows rising incredulously. The knot in his stomach eased a little at the content look on the healer’s face when she exited the birthing room but it tightened again when she frowned at him.

“Is Frís alright,” he asked, stepping forward, Frerin starting to fuss in his arms at the sudden movements and loud voices. Thráin became more agitated when the healer just stared back at him, “this is enough joking around, please tell me real news of my wife and child!”

The healer blinked a few times as though in surprise before a look of understanding crossed her face and she took a few steps closer to Thráin, “My Lord, I tell no word of a lie or a joke. The princess is quite well and so is your brand-new daughter. Would you like to meet them?”

Thráin could feel his legs wanting to give way beneath him as what the healer had just said sunk in, he kept himself from falling in his shock by sheer force of will and reminding himself that he held his middle son – middle child in his arms. He had to clear his throat from the emotion choking him up a few times before he managed to force any words past his lips.

“I must see them please.” The healer nodded kindly at him and gestured Thráin to follow her into the birthing room, he followed almost blindly, toting his youngest son, who was happily chewing on one of Thráin’s braids again, and with little Thorin trotting along behind him. He is broken from his stupor when Thorin addresses him.

“‘Adad? Where we goin’?” Thorin is talking around his thumb again and Thráin absent-mindedly removes the thumb from his eldest’s mouth and corrects him before answering.

“We’re going to see your new baby sister,” here Thráin stops still in awe of the idea that he has had the first daughter in Durin’s line since before Durin VI; he didn’t think he could possibly love his wife anymore, yet he finds his heart swelling all the more for her and the child he has yet to meet, “you remember when you’re ‘amad had your nadadith?” Thorin nods, his Durin blue eyes wide in his youth flushed face, “well now you’re getting a namadith.” Thorin blinks at his father uncomprehendingly for a few seconds before he mumbles an excited exclamation.

Thráin smiles widely down at Thorin before taking his small, sticky, hand in his own much larger one and leading Thorin into Frís’ room. Frerin stirs more in his arms as the scenery changes and glances around them, babbling on in his high-pitched voice around a mouthful of one of Thráin’s braids. Thráin takes a deep fortifying breath, trying to control his fast-beating heart and sweaty palms at the thought of his daughter, his DAUGHTER! behind the heavy wooden door.

When he pushes into the room he is hit with the deep sense of right he had felt with both his other naddan and he takes a moment to control the emotion choking up his throat before he looks up and straight into his, beautiful, radiant, and sweat-drenched, wife’s eyes and the beaming smile on her face.

He places Frerin on the floor beside Thorin, who immediately takes his little brother’s hand in his own and stays where he is at Thráin’s stern look, before taking the final steps over to his wife and the small bundle in her arms. When he reaches Frís, he places his large hands either side of her face and leans into a sweet kiss with her before resting their foreheads together for a moment, they take the opportunity to breathe each other in after the anxiety of the last few days before Thráin leans in to see his new daughter’s face.

She is tiny, just like her brother’s had been (and just like Hrera assured him he had been at one point – though she had muttered something about fat heads before stalking away), and her small hands are curled into fists beside her scrunched up face, which is covered in the light peach fuzz that will become her side-burns and later her beard.

Thráin can't control the emotion clogging his throat and the tears that start to roll down his face and into his already Frerin mussed beard. Frís smiles through her own happy tears and hands Thráin his new daughter, she squirms in his arms and a massive smile spreads across Thráin’s face as he stares at the tiny piece of ghivasha that they have made. He can't control his silent tears turning into an odd mix between sobbing and laughter when she opens her eyes and curls her hand around one his fingers.

Beside him Frís beckons their sons up beside the bed to see their new sister, Thorin, very wobbly, hoists his little brother into his arms and totes him over to the bed where Thráin, after handing their daughter over to Frís, hoists both Thorin and Frerin up onto the bed. They immediately crowd around Frís and their little sister on the bed, their small hands reaching out to touch before Frís or Thráin can say anything. The third-time parents’ watch as their eldest children gently stroke their sister resting in Frís’ arms.

“Wha’ she call’ mama?” Frerin, who Thráin has plucked up off the bed again at Frerin's imperious request, is munching on one of Thráin’s braids and mumbling his words around his mouthful.

Frís smiles tiredly up at her youngest son, before running her free hand gently over Thorin’s head, “we haven’t decided yet my little lion.”

“She m’ Dís.” Frís and Thráin both smile at Frerin's declaration and Thráin runs his fingers softly through Frerin’s small braids.

“She is your Dís, that’s correct Frerin.” Frerin shakes his head an annoyed look crossing his small face.

“Nah! Nah! She Dís!” Thráin shares a confused look with his wife before turning back to their youngest son.

“You mean her name Frerin?” Thráin places his large hand gently on Frerin’s face and tilts it up until he is looking into his young son’s eyes, “do you mean you would like your baby sister to be called Dís?”

“Yah! Dís! Dís! Dís!” Frerin’s little voice rises in a shriek around the word and Frís and Thráin share a look and a mutual shrug of acceptance over their son’s heads and it is decided. Thráin feels tears fill his eyes again as he looks upon his large family; his beautiful wife Frís, their wonderful sons Thorin and Frerin and his new baby girl Dís.


End file.
